


Do I or Don't I?

by pir8fancier



Series: Do I or Don't I? [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 21:31:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1617746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pir8fancier/pseuds/pir8fancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney is thinking of proposing to Jennifer. He seeks advice. Bad move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do I or Don't I?

**Author's Note:**

> I think I'm done with these two and then they surprise me. I shared a fine, perfectly wonderful bottle of Pinot Noir with my husband a couple of nights ago and banged this out in two hours. Would that my other writing be as carefree and purposeful!!! WHY?WHY?WHY? Crap. Once I cleaned up the typos, I thought, it's okay. ~~Enjoy. Any mistakes? Holler. No beta. I refuse to subject someone to my drunken writerly rambles.~~ Some lovely anonymous person helped me out here to clear up a few glitches. Thank you, lovely anonymous person!!!!

Rodney thinks he wants to marry Jennifer. He's bought a ring and everything. But he's not really sure because he still has residual scars from that whole business when he thought he wanted to marry Katie. And he doesn't want to do that again. Succumb to his loneliness. He wants to be sure. Damn sure. He wants to marry someone because he loves them and will love them for the next forty years. But. Well. Rodney is not really sure what love means. Relationships have never been his strong suit. Before he didn't particularly care. Now he does. But he doesn't really have the skill set to determine whether he's in lust or in love. He just doesn't.

He looks about around Atlantis and realizes with something of a shock that there is only one frigging person who has been married that he knows of. ONE PERSON! And that person is the one person who would be the LAST person you would ask for advice on whether or not one should get married. Unless you wanted to risk receiving a body blow or something equally painful, right around the neck region. Because you don't talk about that sort of thing with John Sheppard. Except that Rodney really needs to know. So he does. Ask. It does not go well.

* * *

"What?"

"Um, advice. On getting married. Since you've, you know, actually been, well, married. Tips. Ideas. Suggestions. General all-purpose reasons why and why not. I'm not too picky. I'm in a quandary here. Obviously, you're divorced _now_ , which would seem to suggest that your advice would be suspect. But hindsight and all that. And..." John's face gets that super scary glower that no one wants to see. Unless you're being attacked and it isn't directed at you. THEN you want to see it because chances are pretty good you'll survive. Now? Not so encouraging. Rodney mumbles, "I'll shut up now."

John aims at the target and promptly drills five bullet holes into the target's heart. Each hole within a quarter-inch radius of one another.

"Are you fucking crazy? And who told you I'd been married?"

Rodney realizes at this point how BAD an idea this had been. He raises his gun and fires. None of his shots make the target. This is piss poor, even for him.

"Look, forget I asked," he back-pedals. "It's just that I'm thinking... No one else on this base has been married... And... Um..."

John drops his arm and turns his head to the side. John says in a quiet voice, so quiet, so close to a whisper that Rodney has to strain to hear him, "You know how most people say it takes two? That it's never one person's fault, even if it seems that way. That was bullshit in my case. It was all my fault. Nancy is a great person, and I was a total asshole to her. You want my advice? Don't be an asshole."

John walks off. Rodney is left standing there with a Baretta dangling from one hand and the other pinching his nose, trying to stave off the headache that is marching across his frontal lobes. Rodney is something of a legendary Class-A asshole. At the best of times.

* * *

Next, he asks Ronon for advice.

"If you think you still want to fuck her in forty years, you're good."

Rodney isn't even sure his dick will be still working in forty years. He doesn't have trouble getting it up, as a rule, but every now and then... And he's just turned forty! He says thanks and heads off to Teyla. With each footfall Rodney knows this is gigantic mistake, but he's running out of options.

* * *

Teyla advice is always drowning in allegory. Not that it's really advice so much as hinting at various outcomes. If, then. Which Rodney should get as a scientist, but it never works out that way. Because inevitably, the thing that Rodney thought was the tree was actually the woodland creature, and although he thinks he understands what she is saying at the time, forty feet down the corridor he always finds himself completely confused and just as unsure of what he was supposed to do before he asked her for her advice. Which he suspects is her point. Plus, Rodney sucks at allegory. 

This time it is different. Rodney is initially grateful that it seems very straightforward for once. Not one mention of anything remotely connected to nature.

"You wish to marry Jennifer?"

"Yes."

"And you have purchased a ring, the symbol of union in your culture."

Her voice sounds neutral--and Rodney knows that she likes Jennifer in principle--but something's not right. If her voice sounds neutral, then why does Rodney have that identical hinky feeling at the back of his neck, signaling a "Danger, Will Robinson" vibe? The same one that John had elicited not two hours earlier. Ignoring the creepy tingly feeling, Rodney hopes that he is finally going to get something he can latch on to. Something that says, "Pull that box out of your pocket and pledge yourself to her, ideally under a tree with woodland creatures beaming at you in approbation." 

"Yes."

"Have you talked to John about marrying Jennifer Keller?"

The use of both of Jennifer's names ups the creepy tingly feeling threefold; however, as they all tacitly acknowledge that John's interpersonal skills are nothing short of abysmal, Rodney thinks he can at least get Teyla's buy-in on how inept John's advice was.

"Yes, he was soooooo helpful. He told me not to be an asshole." Rodney's not smug, but he's definitely heading in that direction. He does not get the reaction he expects.

"Excellent advice, Rodney. Do not be an asshole."

She walks off. If steps could possibly be categorized as angry, then Teyla's steps are really pissed off. She's not stomping or anything, but her walk isn't infused with its usual grace. And Rodney is in the same position he always is at the end of one of these conversations. He's completely confused.

* * *

Two weeks later, the ring is still burning a hole in his pocket. For heaven's sake, it seems like such a simple question: should he marry Jennifer? Apparently it is the A-bomb of questions because John and Teyla are still angry with him. Ronon is not oblivious to the dynamic between the three of them--there seems to be little Ronon doesn't get--but as usual he is so philosophical about life's slings and arrows that he's merely amused. But not at anybody's expense, which is a skill Rodney envies.

As always, any time Team One encounters interpersonal hiccups, the entire base goes into orange alert. Metaphorically speaking. People choose sides in subtle ways, which is so unfair because the military staff far out-number the science staff by a ton, plus everyone is on Teyla's side on principle, regardless of their status, military or civilian. So Rodney finds himself, not for the first time by any means, a total pariah. Also as usual during these hiccups, any doubt about Atlantis being a sentient being is thoroughly dispelled. Because her favorite person in the whole goddamn Milky Way and, of course, Pegasus, and probably in every single fricking galaxy in the entire universe is John Sheppard. And when John is mad, Atlantis is mad. And when Atlantis is mad, the entire base knows it. Systems fail for no reason, showers are cut short, water is either scalding or icy, nothing in between. By the end of this two weeks of hell, the entire base loathes him because the Marines hate him on principle, and the science staff hate him because they haven't had a decent shower in fourteen days. 

For Christ's sake! HE JUST WANTS TO GET MARRIED

Maybe.

Rodney thinks that perhaps this is the time to go to Washington for that meeting he's been postponing for six months. Plus he really needs a decent shower. Maybe he could swing by Vancouver on his way and get Jeannie's opinion on this marriage business. Which is how he finds himself in Jeannie's kitchen on a rainy Saturday afternoon. Mads is at a science camp weekend for fathers and daughters. If his own childhood is any indication, they should return twenty-fours hours early because he doubts that quantum physics is on the curriculum, and Maddie's intellectual jones wasn't going to be satisfied making a volcano out of baking soda and carbonated water. He figured they have an hour before Caleb and Maddie return, frustrated and bored. It's hell being a genius.

After filling his coffee cup twice and watching him eat an entire plate of oatmeal cookies by himself, Jeannie does a little hand flapping of her own.

Now that Rodney is here, he isn't sure what to say. He can't help but remember that his reaction to Jeannie marrying Caleb could be construed as hostile. And that is putting it mildly. Now he is in the same position, and although Jeannie is and always will be miles more mature than him, he is a little wounded right now and doesn't think he will weather very well being called an asshole by his own sister.

"My colon will be in ecstasy for the next week," he says and then burps. No doubt those cookies were incredibly healthy and chock full of nauseating ingredients like bran and flax and six different kinds of seeds. Unfortunately, they tasted like ground up leaves with a honey chaser. Every now and then he'd chomp down on a raisin, the only reason that made it worthwhile finishing the entire batch.

"Meredith," Jeannie warns in a voice that makes clear that her menu choices are not up for discussion. "You are here because?"

"I can't visit my sister?" She gives him a look. "Okay, it's not completely out of brotherly love. I'm, well, I'm thinking of getting married." He holds his breath. When that doesn't get a reaction, any reaction what so ever, he's not sure whether that's a good or a bad thing.

"To Jennifer?" she asks and goes to reach for a cookie and then frowns when she realizes there aren't any.

"Of course to Jennifer," he sputters. "Who else would I marry?"

She shrugs. "Are you getting cold feet?"

"It's not so much cold feet, because that would imply that my feet at some point had been warm. Okay, they're lukewarm but not toasty. I'm just terrified that I'm making a mistake," he admits. "You know I'm horrible with people. If only they were integers or something, I'd have a handle on this emotional stuff." He never should have eaten those last five cookies. They are now glued into a gigantic ball right below his diaphragm. He swallows another impending burp and gets a repeat of leaf. "I mean, I nearly married Katie Brown. A botanist for God's sake!"

She gives him a tiny little head shake, like she can't quite believe what had just come out of his mouth. It is the sister equivalent of calling him a asshole.

"Jeannie, why did you marry Caleb? Not that he isn't a perfectly nice person," he qualifies in response to her menacing glare. "At least I assume he is because you don't complain about him, and, frankly, I find him so boring that I cannot bring myself to pay him more than the rudimentary attention that he deserves as your husband. I mean, is he always that blah?"

She smiles and Rodney thinks, "Wow, that's kind of an evil smile." It isn't an evil smile at all, apparently--which might have been preferable--but a leer.

"No, Meredith. In fact, he's a fucking god at oral sex." Ignoring Rodney's shout of "Oh my god, TMI!", she goes on. "We have good days and bad. Some days he fails at a husband, but then he's there as my friend. Some days I want a friend and he's my husband. The day when I don't want him as a husband or a friend will be the day our marriage is over. But I don't see that happening. You and me? Our intelligence isolates us, Rodney. We need someone to anchor us, keep our feet in this world. To keep us human. He does that for me. He does the same for Maddie. Would that our parents had done that for us," she murmurs.

"Too busy hating each other to care about us." Rodney doesn't bother to hide the extreme bitterness in his voice. He tries not to think about his parents. Ever. Especially since they are both dead and he can't derive any satisfaction from telling them what super shitty parents they'd been. 

"True," she admits. "Anyway, I can't give you any advice, Mer. She's an extremely nice, intelligent woman. Just ask yourself some simple questions. Does she anchor you? Does she pull you into the real world and demand that you not hide behind your genius? Does she make you human? Maybe even a better person?"

Rodney goes cold inside. Like Jeannie has flipped some sort of "freeze" switch. Because Jennifer doesn't do any of those things for him. Not only does she put up with his selfishness, she often does an end run around it. Basically, she would never call him an asshole.

He pushes back his chair and stands up. He looks around the kitchen, realizing in another unwelcome epiphany that this is exactly what Jennifer would want at some point. This domesticity. The canisters on the counter filled with flour and sugar, the matching placemats, the artwork pinned to the refrigerator with magnets--of course in Mads' case it's pages of calculus problems. She will want this he can't help but acknowledge, and he will not, he admits to himself with equal clarity. He hears the rumble of the automatic garage door opening. Caleb and Mads are home. Rodney mumbles something to Jeannie about taking a shower and heads upstairs before they appear in the kitchen full of complaints, no matter how justified, at what a waste of time and money _that_ was. Unwelcome epiphany number three: he will be unspeakably bored with Jennifer in ten years. He does not want to spend the rest of his life with a female Caleb.

Unwelcome epiphany number four arrives while he is shampooing his hair for the third time. The people who actually do pull him into the real world and demand that he join the rest of humanity are the crew on Atlantis. Especially, Teyla, Ronon, and John. Especially John. Especially _John_. 

He cancels his meeting in D.C. and returns to Atlantis. The city senses his shift in mood and her walls are no longer shimmering with disapproval. John stops glaring at him, and, consequently, the entire base lightens up. Gate Team One returns to having meals together. John isn't really speaking to him yet, but Rodney gets the sense that he doesn't know what to say as opposed to being pissed off. He's regarding Rodney with a thoughtfulness, a wariness. Jennifer seems oblivious to any of this vibe, and if that isn't an indication that this relationship is on life support, Rodney doesn't know what is. He still loves her but unwelcome epiphany number five. It's not enough to love someone. 

They are sitting on the pier one night, it's a little chilly, but it's clear and the stars are out. He says in a nonchalant voice, "Jennifer, where do you see yourself in ten years?"

He gets the answer he expects. Teaching hospital somewhere. Preferably the Midwest, but she'd consider the east coast, a tacit acknowledgment that Rodney would sooner eat lemon pudding than consider living in the Midwest. He reaches out to take her hand. He squeezes it. "I see myself here." He says it gently, with none of the combative edge in his voice that he's famous for. 

She resigns and is gone in a month. He hugs her very tightly before she boards the launch that will take her to the City. From there she will catch a cab to the airport. She's going to spend a couple of months with her father and then look for that teaching gig. He waits until he can no longer see the launch and then throws the box containing her engagement ring into the water. The box bobs along for a few seconds and then sinks. He reaches up to brush the hair away from his face and realizes he is crying.

Rodney isn't sure what will happen next. If anything. Obviously he can't imagine himself celibate for the next forty years; his dick is very unhappy about that prospect. He's confused and not a little angry. He's like an intellectual hot house flower. If he leaves the confines of Atlantis he will revert into the nasty, objectionable jerk he was before he stepped through that wormhole. If he stays, then he's lonely and becomes a monk. Based on Jeannie's criteria, the only person who checks off all the boxes is John Sheppard! Teyla is pregnant with her second child with Kanaan, and Ronon is dating Amelia. That leaves John.

Rodney is mulling over this tragic state of affairs during some pointless staff meeting. They've cycled out Woolsey and replaced him with a total idiot. Rodney had come to appreciate Woolsey and actually misses him. Rodney stops ruminating over his new life as a monk and sends a mental note to Atlantis. _Get this weenie dickhead out of here, pronto. Do whatever._. He would never admit this to anyone, but he senses that Atlantis agrees. _Don't kill him!_ Rodney amends. Again, he'll never admit this, but he would swear on Newton's grave that Atlantis gives a little pout at that. _And no maiming!_. That gets a sentient huff back, like, _You're no fun_. At that John dips his head to hide a big smile. 

Rodney kicks John's ankle, because how dare he horn in on Rodney's private conversations with Atlantis! Instead of the glare he expects, John turns one of his donkeyesque brays of laughter into a stagey cough, fooling no one at the table except the new and stupid not-Woolsey. John's laugh is the goofiest sound in this world, even when he's trying to hide it with that ridiculous coughing. He's blushing from the effort, and the contrast between his perpetually tanned face and the red on his cheekbones only contributes to the astonishingly handsome thing that John always has going on. John only gets more attractive as he ages, whereas Rodney only get balder and the mouth frowns even in rest these days. It's so unfair. Too bad John isn't a woman because if he were a woman, Rodney would marry him in a heartbeat. He's hot, intelligent if not brilliant, and interestingly puts up with Rodney's shit while at the same time calling him on his shit--it's a very ambidextrous quality that no one else except for Elizabeth has ever quite mastered. He's perfect. Except for that dick business. Rodney sighs and John, who has managed to stop laughing, raises an eyebrow in question. And, yes, John cares for him, even loves him, although guys aren't supposed to love other guys, but Rodney doesn't doubt that John loves him. Maybe even deeply. As he loves John. 

Rodney shrugs, but John isn't fooled and narrows his eyes as if to say, "Hey, what's up?" Yes, John would be perfect. He doesn't have to ask himself if he loves John Sheppard. It's not even a question. Of course, even if Rodney could get beyond his previously admittedly stellar hetero credentials, which now seem less stellar than they even were ten minutes ago because, wow, John Sheppard is hot! and hot is hot, John is not gay. Rodney would go to the bank on this.

If Rodney were not a scientist it would have stopped right there. Except he _is_ a scientist. Maybe if he reframes this whole issue into a geometric postulate, then he might actually get some answers that he can work with. Mathematics has never failed him to date. 

If Rodney can, perhaps, park his hetero and get gay in the interest of having a life companion that he both respects and loves, and who in return both respects and loves him, then could John Sheppard do the same? He really does not want to be celibate for the rest of his life. Is Sheppard possibly bi or not as skewed on the Kinsey scale as Rodney heretofore has assumed? Maybe they could both ignore their hetero. Have sex in the dark every now and then for the next forty years. Which is better than no sex in daylight ever.

Plus he stays on Atlantis and stays human. Which is the point.

Rodney had agonized over the issue of asking John's words of wisdom on marrying Jennifer for days and days, and yet he only stews for twelve hours before asking John to marry him. He lies in bed that night thinking all the ways this could go wrong. How John will hate him forever and ever, never speak to him again, that Rodney putting him on the spot will be the emotional Doranda from which they will never recover. He frets himself into a panic attack and in between blowing in and out of a paper bag, in desperation he says out loud to Atlantis: _I'm going to ask Colonel Sheppard to marry me. In Earth parlance that means be my partner. What do you think?_ There is the sentient rolling of eyes, like, _Stupid Earthling, I know what marriage is on your planet._ And then there is the most profound burst of what Rodney can only describe as approval on a grand scale. It's the first time since his feet had touched her floor that he feels like an insider. Like he's finally become an Ancient. He's one of them. 

After another pointless meeting where Rodney grouses to Atlantis, _Get a move on. This guy is driving me crazy!_ to which she replies, _I'm working on it_ with such gleeful malevolence that Rodney actually feels sorry for the guy for about two nanoseconds, Rodney says to John as they are walking down the corridor, "I need to talk to you in private. Let's go to your office. No one in their right mind would look for you there." 

John raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything as they walk to the transporter.

John's office smells a little fishy, as always. He's not there enough to air it out and the _eau de ocean_ is always a little overpowering. Although John is slouching in his desk chair per the usual, the tight lines around his mouth belie his seeming nonchalance, telling Rodney that John is expecting Rodney to announce something dire, maybe awful, maybe that Rodney is resigning.

"I'm not resigning," Rodney says right off the bat. The lines around John's mouth ease, just a fraction. "You can say no or you can say yes. I don't imagine that this will affect our friendship one iota, at least I hope not. I've given this a lot of thought. I'm proposing. Marriage. Or something equivalent. To you."

There is a millisecond when John thinks Rodney is serious; Rodney can see it in the minute blinkblink of astonishment. Then John slouches even more and drawls, "Right, McKay. Pull the other one. So what's been bothering you? Really."

Rodney frowns so that John will know that he's serious. "I'm not joking. You make me a better person. We've been through the most god-awful shit imaginable together and have survived somewhat intact. We couldn't have done it without the other. You know my faults. I know yours. I leave Atlantis, I will turn into a monster. Like I was before. I have to stay. I do not want to be that man again. I also do not want to be celibate and lonely. I look at this as yet another adventure that you and I are on together. We don't actually have to get married for real. I doubt either of us need that sort of hoopla. Oddly enough I don't think anything will change between us. We eat all our meals together as it is, and spend seventy percent of our time together. That won't change, but we might get some okay sex out of it. Plus, I don't like sleeping alone. I'm willing to try if you are. I can be discreet and will not broadcast that we are together. I loathe homophobes, but broadcasting any relationship we have beyond friendship might undermine your command. And if it doesn't work out, then it doesn't work out."

Rodney is not looking at John while he is saying this. He's focused on a spot just past John's right ear. Atlantis is giving him little bursts of approval throughout this entire speech.

There is silence for a couple of minutes, and during most of those minutes Rodney is wondering if suicide by lemon is more painful than suicide by drowning. He tries to salvage whatever there is left of their friendship by saying, "You know, that whole business of me asking you advice about marrying Jennifer? I kept asking myself, and I couldn't exactly say this to you, but I was asking myself do I love her? And yes, I think I did, I mean I do. Love her. But I asked the question over and over again none the less. I don't ask myself that question with you. I know I do. And, yes, as men, especially men on a military base, we aren't supposed to voice these emotions but since when do I have filters. So, basically, if this is a horrible idea, then it doesn't change that I think you're one of the finest people I have ever met or worked with. And if this is making your hetero bones shiver at the thought of putting my hand on your dick, then let's just pretend we never had this conversation."

Rodney has been speaking to the floor during most of the second half of his proposal so he doesn't know what John's face looks like when Rodney hears, "Okay."

His heads jerks up and he manages to squeak, "Okay?" but still can't see John's face because John's half way out the door. Out of the side of John's mouth he says, "Yeah. I'll be by your quarters at about 8:00. See if this works or not."

What just happened? Rodney doesn't know whether to be thrilled or terrified. He hears a faint laugh, the sound of metal buckling ever so slightly. "Oh shut up," he says aloud. The metal ripples even more.

* * *

Rodney leaves the lab at 5:00 pm. This never happens unless meatloaf is on that night's menu, and it's tuna-casserole day. Radek is so concerned that he asks Rodney if he is sick. Rodney says in all honesty, "I don't know," and walks out.

He takes three showers and brushes his teeth four times. He even flosses. He picks up the clothes strewn all over the floor of his room and makes his bed. His personal grooming habits have plummeted to their usual state of gross now that he's not trying to make things work with Jennifer. He finds six open bags of Cheetos in varying degrees of eaten-ness and manages to coalesce all of them into two full bags. He eats the crunchy kind because they never go stale--which should be worrisome on a bazillion levels but Rodney considers Cheetos a staple in his diet and he just doesn't want to hear any statistics on cancer and additives. He stashes both bags in his underwear drawer, which has no underwear in it because he hasn't done his laundry in a couple of weeks. He is wearing his last clean pair. Thank god for small miracles. It's his emergency pair, as in the elastic is losing its oomph, but they are clean.

Rodney waits in the dark, standing at the window and staring at his watch. As the digital numbers flip from 7:59 to 8:00, the door swooshes open and John walks in, Rodney can see him only for a second before the door closes shut and the room goes dark again. John's wearing his usual BDUs, combat boots, but he's shaved and the faint smell of Aqua Velvet wafts toward Rodney. 

John growls out a rough, "Okay?"

Rodney replies, "Yes." It's a little formal but Rodney wants to be formal. He wants John to know that this isn't just a stupid joke or a desperate move on Rodney's part for a quick hand job. That this is serious.

"You wearing the tee-shirt with the mustard stain on the shoulder that says, 'Geniuses are Geniuses Because They Are a Hell of a Lot Smarter than You', or the one with the catsup stain on the front that says, 'You Are a Moron, I Am Not'?"

"The one covered in soy-sauce stains from that time we went to Chinatown with Ronon for dim sum that says, 'Be Quiet and You Won't Say Something Stupid.'"

"A personal favorite," John says with his usual sarcastic edge.

Rodney sighs an internal sigh of relief. It's going to be okay. Because this is so _them_. 

"Come here," Rodney says in a calm voice unlike his usual propensity to issue commands; there is a definite sense of "please" around the edges.

John's night vision is kick ass, which is a good thing because it is still dark in the room, and Rodney doesn't have the guts to turn on the lights. Apparently John doesn't either, as John could have the lights blazing if he wanted to. It's not even close to being a full moon yet, but since Rodney can see John's silhouette in the faint light, John can certainly see him.

John is across the room in a millisecond and very gently pushes Rodney up against the wall with his body weight. John's thumb traces the slant of Rodney's bottom lip and then the slant of his top lip. Right as Rodney opens his mouth to suck on that thumb, John moves it to the base of Rodney's right ear and traces that "L" from Rodney's ear along the length of his shoulders. Rodney's shoulders are one of his few assets, and Rodney realizes that John had noticed this. _John had noticed how fricking awesome Rodney's shoulders were!_ Rodney lets out a primal and sexual grunt of satisfaction and want, and then all hell breaks loose.

Tee-shirts are hauled over heads and hands are shoved down pants and butts are grabbed and necks are sucked on and lips are bitten and when John grabs both their dicks and begins working them together Rodney thinks, wow, this feels unbelievable, just _fucking unbelievable_. John comes first, because, well, he hasn't, to Rodney's knowledge, had any sort of sexual relationship since that stupid encounter with that intergalactic bitch Chaya. But Rodney isn't far behind because John's bucking against him in a powerful (if silent) orgasm (which is _so_ Sheppard) pushes him over as well.

Once Rodney stops panting they stumble over to his queen-sized bed and crawl under the covers; it's the only queen-sized bed on the entire base, which is really sad because it underscores how lonely everyone is. Rodney is about to fall asleep when John elbows him lightly in the ribs.

"Don't fall asleep yet. You know how I said I fucked up with Nancy. How it was my fault? Well, you should know that it was because I'm gay, and it took me screwing her over to realize it."

Rodney gets up on one elbow, not bothering to hide his outrage. "How could you deny that?"

"Sort of like you denying that maybe you're bi?"

"Point," Rodney concedes, but not very graciously.

"Couldn't fly if I admitted that to myself, plus she's a hell of a woman. Gorgeous, smart, and has a golf score that's the envy of the eastern seaboard."

"Trust you to go for the jock."

John swipes the mattress under Rodney's elbow so that he face-plants on John's chest.

"Hey!" Rodney complains.

John ignores him. "I married her to prove to myself that I was straight and to my father that I wasn't the fuck-up that he thought I was. Being the great person that she is, she's forgiven me. For both outrages."

"Being the martyr that you are, you haven't forgiven yourself."

"Something like that."

"What about Chaya?"

"Jesus, McKay, you'll never let that go will you?"

"No. Mr. I-Have-a-Little-Bi-Action-Going-On-Myself." Rodney snuggles closer to John and flings a proprietary arm over John's chest.

"Point. Asshole. Knew you'd be a cuddler."

"I'm a snuggler not a cuddler," Rodney protests. Just before he falls asleep, he murmurs around a big happy yawn, "I take it that is a yes of sorts."

"Roger," John whispers around a yawn of his own.

* * *

_Fin_


End file.
